Chapter -41: Unrefined Dreams

Sarajin was eager to take Solomon on a tour around the world. But the man's reclusive attitude meant taking their time.

They have been going to only one Tribe per day. First Tanglefae, where Ividae took to nuzzling Solomon like he was a long lost brother.

Solomon wasn't amused but didn't do anything besides grumble internally.

Aquamoria was…a little worse off. Turns out a lot of moisture exposure rusts metal, even his.

He could have solved that problem anytime by taking the armor off but didn't. Which led to his legs locking into the sand and his jester named Dimentio to take him home.

Sarajin was hesitant to approach him after that but fortunately he didn't seem to care, again.

Solomon knew it. Sarajin knew it. Going to Arc Hurricanos was going to need to wait. So today they would skip over to Oreore where hopefully, he would find something to enjoy.

Sarajin had some faith in this one. The people of Oreore were tough, just like Solomon.

All these trips were slow walks through the wastelands and though Rot Walkers continually hounded them, Solomon was easily able to blow them away with his raw power.

Though after a while they herded together in massive, since unseen numbers, forcing Sarajin to scoop Solomon up and carry him to safe territory.

Solomon aired his grievances loudly, for him anyways, "Don't cower to beasts, stand and crush them!"

"THAT aggression is why they keep coming after us." Sarajin hissed patiently.

And even if he wanted to take a stand he didn't have his sword on him.

Auris had brought it back, much to his surprise, but he didn't want to be tempted to use it just yet.

After landing in the perimeter of Oreore the rest of the trip was quick with a hint of tension between the two.

But Solomon's first impressions of these lands were promising. He took interest in the sheer size of the Argent Heavers roaming the far off land, and craned his head to examine the towering walls of the canyon the people lived in.

Sarajin didn't even realize how full the walls looked right now until he was looking alongside his new ally.

The trial of the Titan had come and gone and Oreore was enjoying a new decade of prosperity…and this almost passed him by.

He hung his head and sighed, "I almost lost my appreciation for the smaller things."

Solomon looked at him with a hum and then remarked, "Where is the entrance?"

Sarajin nodded and took him around to the other side where the real meat of the Tribe's labors proudly stood tall: The gate.

Sarajin looked up at the guards and waved, "Hey! Open up!"

The massive doors creaked open and Solomon found his body fraught with a shiver from how heavy a sound it was.

He clenched his fist and then with narrow eyes took the first step while murmuring, "Intriguing…"

Sarajin was stunned, then smiled and took the lead back, "Follow me, my brother Zeke should be close by."

Solomon dragged out their walk longer than expected through a combination of his innate curiosity and the subtle tension wafting in the air.

There was no getting around tensions between Obscura and other Tribe's no matter where they went, but it would be at its most difficult here where the reminder of this fact stained their property.

Solomon made no effort to hide who he was, and the black clad frame invoked worry through the bloodlines.

Sarajin hoped that remaining calm would ease their minds, and it seemed to work.

No confrontations…for now.

It didn't take long though for them to run into Ezekiel performing his usual rounds close to home.

It led to a natural meeting of their eyes where Ezekiel smiled and walked up with his big arms wide to give him a hug, "Good to see ya again, brother!"

Sarajin hugged him back and Ezekiel grunted with strength. Once they let go Ezekiel crossed his arms and cracked his shoulders.

"Glad it wasn't a one-time return for ya."

"Nope. I'm getting back to normal, little by little." Sarajin replied in confidence.

Ezekiel patted him on the shoulder, then felt a chill over his arms that directed him towards the tower of black metal stand adjacent to them.

Ezekiel looked into Solomon glowing eyes for a long period and then leaned his head in towards Sarajin to whisper, "I-Is that who I think it is…?"

"It is," Sarajin affirmed, his brother's eyes looking extra pale afterwards, "Don't worry, he's on our side."

Ezekiel squeaked out a very long grunt of doubt but Sarajin's smile held out, leading to him letting out a gasp of defeat.

"Mmmrrr, alright…Sounds like ya've given this a lot of thought, brother."

Sarajin then gestured his hand towards the men hard at work and asked, "So I didn't ask when I was here the other day. How are things going?"

"Ehh, same ol', same ol'..." Ezekiel's voice sounded tense and his eyes were looking in Solomon's general direction.

"Mmmm…."

Solomon tilted his head and growled, "If you have something to say, speak."

"U-Uhh, mmm…" Ezekiel gestured his hand out and wondered, "Who…made yer armor?"

Solomon raised the gauntlet before his face and then swung it down, "I do not recall. I have worn it ever since the Rite of Succession."

"Well it looks sturdy."

"Of course. It is mine." Boasted Solomon.

"...Yep. Sure is."

While those two awkwardly tried to find common ground for a conversation, Sarajin took this opportunity to wander off a bit and look for any other familiar faces.

He glanced over his shoulder, "Hey how's Pitori doing?"

Ezekiel breathed a quick sigh of relief and hastened to answer, "Oh he's doin' swell. Dunno what he's workin' on lately though…Been kinda busy with other obligations, y'know?"

Sarajin scanned all the miners carrying ore around and smiled, "I'll say! It's never been this busy."

Ezekiel's smile wobbled and with a quick scratch of his side he said, "Well there's some good news ta share on that front…"

He readied himself as best he could with a deep breath and murmured, "We're…tryin' a trade route with Pulsa Minoria. We give 'em some metal, they'll supply us with stronger tools."

Sarajin's eyes were as wide as boulders and a couple tears came out.

"Ah…! Brother, ya ok?!"

Sarajin wiped the tears onto his sleeve and smiled, "Y-Yeah, I'm fine…"

But deep inside his heart had become flooded with tears of joy, "I was a fool…W-We are making progress."

Once his face was dry he gestured at Solomon and said, "See?"

Solomon's eyes were pointing elsewhere as he growled stoically. "I suppose…"

Sarajin winced and then turned around to see that he was looking at someone standing at the Gaia's doorstep.

Two towering men were confronting each other with stern, powerful gazes. The man on the stairs had a shield as big as his back that invoked a fond memory for Sarajin.

In the presence of Solomon, the man's rock hard brows were arch cautiously, but carried a hint of familiarity to them.

Ezekiel was more worried over Sarajin seeing him though. After some exasperated expressions muddied his face, he pinched his forehead and grumbled, "Was kiiiinda hoping to avoid this conversation…"

Sarajin had a wistful look in his eyes as he pointed up at the man, "W-Who is that…?"

Ezekiel bit his teeth and hissed. His friend was in a good mood and didn't want him to regress into a panic.

And NOW he also had to contend with this darkness wielding titan looking ready to start a fight…

"Hooooooy…" The life of Ezekiel Gaia always seemed to teeter on a stress induced headache.

And Sarajin had almost pieced together who the man at the door was, "Big shield, balding…"

When this seemed to be coming uncontrollable, Cecilia walked out the door, holding a stiff upper lip at the tension permeating the air.

She looked at the man, then at Solomon, then Sarajin, and then finally at her husband. All these facts let her quickly deduce following an exasperated sigh, "Just tell him."

Ezekiel tried to fumble his words some more, instead facing his friend and brother to tell him upfront, "Nah, yer eyes ain't playin' tricks. That's one of the Ten Sages. His name's-"

"Stonestein!" Sarajin gasped pleasantly.

Ezekiel deflated in a baffled manner, "Oh, so yer already acquainted."

This sudden shift in tone was enough to break Stonestein's focus to look at Sarajin, where he proceeded to smile at how healthy he appeared these days.

"It has been some time." He remarked.

Ezekiel flapped his hand up in the air and murmured to himself, "So was I frettin' for nuthin'?"

Sarajin glanced at him with a bit of surprise, "So how did you meet?"

"Long story," Ezekiel continued to loosely cross his arms in confusion, "Y-Yer handling this better than I expected…"

Sarajin widened his eyes upon realizing how fishy his own behavior was and started to laugh fondly. He then gestured at Stonestein to tell him, "I've never forgotten how you shared your water with me."

Stonestein smiled a little wider.

Ezekiel had to check one last time, "So yer SURE this is fine with ya?"

Sarajin took one last long look at the Sage and then nodded, "Yes. I…can trust him."

"Well now yer just makin' me feel like a right idiot for hidin' this from ya." Ezekiel said with a dry chuckle.

Sarajin patted him hard on the back and smiled.

Solomon was away from all this, still casting his gaze in Stonestein's direction.

The Sage relaxed and then finally started to head North away from the house, "I will be in the ruins."

Ezekiel waved him off and shouted, "Maybe I'll join ya later."

In the Sage's place, Cecilia jumped down to the ground to join her husband.

Sarajin had a little confusion left to share so Ezekiel said, "It's a whole thing between us…"

"Well tell me later, I'm interested." Sarajin replied

Cecilia nodded, "Some rare insight, especially in unwelcome company."

She turned to look at Solomon, who finally regrouped with Sarajin and began an intense staring contest with the lady of Frost.

Cecilia made a brief glance in Sarajin's direction, "Explain."

"Riiiight…" Sarajin gestured out, "Solomon, Cecilia. Cecilia, Solomon."

"I'm well aware of who he is. WHY is he here?" Cecilia gave off a standoff-ish tone.

Solomon remarked with an air of superiority to his voice, "I would ask the same of you, Arctic Knight. Your bloodlust is an ill fit for one of his allies."

"Don't call us that." She said with a deep, crystal clear disdain.

Solomon looked at Sarajin who shrugged and wagged his hand out, "We have different methods of handling peace."

Cecilia closed her eyes and raised her tone, "And somehow you roped the lord of Obscura into your ranks."

"Hmph," Uttered Solomon, "Do not presume my will to be so weak."

"Then do me a favor, and don't do so for mine either."

Solomon dryly snarked to Sarajin, "Seems like a trustworthy woman."

Sarajin took a firm tone with him, "Honestly? Yeah, she is. At least we're both after the same goal, despite walking our own paths."

Solomon gestured his hand out and pontificated on those words, "So 'peace' can be obtained in multiple ways?"

Cecilia then was forced to admit, "I suppose…it's better to have you as an ally than a potential enemy."

Solomon swung his arm out like he had a cape on his back, "I am only following Sarajin for my own ends."

Ezekiel waved his hands out with a heavy groan, "Cut it out ya two, who CARES?"

Cecilia took one glance at him then gestured her head away from Solomon, "One more question. Can you fight?"

"Cecilia…"

Sarajin intervened and began rubbing his chin, "Hold on."

Ezekiel blurted out the shrillest "What?!" As the craziness kept going.

Solomon held his hand out and declared, "The will of my ancestors has been infused within every bone of my being. There are none who may beat me."

Cecilia then called him out, "So you could pick up a random sword and defeat me with it?"

"With ease."

Cecilia nudged to her right and shouted, "Bring me a sword! Any will do!"

A miner far-off happened to have one on hand, where it was tossed to her and then to Solomon.

Solomon gripped it hard in one hand and raised his dark aura just enough to surround him.

Cecilia reached for her swords and began to move closer, "First to disarm the other loses."

"Then victory is already mi-"

Cecilia never skipped a beat and lunged forward, striking Solomon's wrist with twin streaks of crystal ice.

The hand opened and the sword went flying over his head as he stood there stunned.

Cecilia paused to lay her blades onto her back and then extended her hand to snag the plummeting sword to then immediately turn and pin the tip at the back of Solomon's neck.

"Rely on pure strength and you'll be the first corpse on the battlefield."

Solomon glared over his shoulder with a growl.

Sarajin felt a little uneasy but kept his apology in his head, "Sorry Solomon, but I think you needed to learn this sooner rather than later."

But Solomon's response to all this was rather surprising, "Hmph…That blade was simply not worthy to be the vessel of my might."

It was a measured show of arrogance but also a little…childish?

Cecilia smiled and flipped the handle around to throw it into the ground. It did not break.

She then made one last remark dripping his sincerity, "Refine yourself. War is no place for privileged children who have sat on a throne."

She then walked straight through his intense aura and passed in front of Ezekiel, "Also, ruin duty is mine today. I leave you to deal with our company."

Ezekiel sighed and shrugged, "Saw right through me eh? Bah, go have fun. I can handle things 'ere."

Cecilia bumped her fist against his shoulder and then was on her way.

Solomon raised his hand out and commented with a biting remark that nevertheless, wound up sounding like praise, "And here I presumed that Auris was the only woman with a will to fight."

Ezekiel was quick to prop up his Tribe with pride, "Ha, we're all a tough and rowdy bunch 'ere."

He then held his hand out towards Solomon but withdrew part way, his teeth clenched in hesitation.

Solomon put his hand down by his side and gave a gentle brush towards the air, remarking with punctuated dismay, "This land...it is where the majority of weapons are produced?"

"Ya can say that," Ezekiel pumped his thumb against his chest, "But ya can be damn sure ya won't find better quality anywhere else."

"Intriguing," Solomon brushed his hand up like beholden to a goblet of wine, "I demand a sword worthy of my strength."

Sarajin flinched and then briefly rubbed his face, while Ezekiel tapped his fingers impatiently along his arms and blurted out, "Ain't ya missin' a word there, pal?"

"My mind is plenty capable of constructing full sentences." Solomon asserted.

Sarajin let out a quick cough and then nudged his head towards Ezekiel multiple times, silently mouthing a set of syllables to be picked up on.

Solomon narrowed his eyes halfway and with a sigh that rocked his armor he gestured his hand out again slowly and remarked, "...Please."

Ezekiel clicked his tongue, "Eh, it's a start."

Sarajin paused the conversation to wonder, "W-Why the sudden interest in a sword? I don't think a better weapon will let you defeat Cecilia."

Solomon asserted with a quiet, domineering attitude, "My pride needs no healing. I know my strength outmatches hers."

"Oooooy..." Groaned Ezekiel.

"Really need to work on his people skills..." Despite Solomon's rudeness, it clearly came from a point of view he took seriously, so Sarajin eased the mood by saying, "Ok, so what is it?"

Solomon turned his head and remarked, "You claimed that a sword is wielded in defense of the innocent. I merely wish to ascertain if that feeling will resonate in me."

"So it's just part of your journey of self-discovery..." Sarajin was in awe but in turn, felt endeared by the idea, even through how mighty Solomon's voice was.

Nevertheless, he had to turn to Ezekiel for progress, "Your call."

"Mmmmm, don't really see the harm. Ain't like it's gonna make him any scarier." When he chuckled at that it quickly fizzled out upon Solomon glaring at him. And Sarajin was adding on to that a little bit.

Ezekiel flapped his hand in the air and wondered aloud, "Why've I gotta be enemy number one 'here?"

He then turned around and made a forceful gesture towards the east, "Follow me! I'll introduce ya to our blacksmiths."

They traveled deeper into the ravine with Solomon keeping his distance. Tensions had died off...momentarily, but all it'd take is one person acting on instinct to cause trouble.

Sarajin wished his faith would hold out over his concerns. It was a rocky start, a joke-y comparison he felt ashamed to have made, but Solomon was putting in some shred of effort to fit into these Tribes.

If Solomon could succeed, this would be a massive leap forward for peace.

But more than that...Sarajin hoped that he would find happiness. He's always been so miserable and pitiable sitting on that throne with no energy to spare.

"Maybe this is the jump start he needs." Sarajin prayed with his fist clenched against his chest.

Ezekiel then poked him on the shoulder and flashed a look of regret briefly at him, "Aaaugh, I just can't get over it...One last time. Ya SURE yer fine with me workin' with that Sage?"

Sarajin laughed it off, "It's ok. Really."

He then leaned his hand on his hip and wondered, "But what are you after in the ruins?"

Ezekiel suddenly leaned his head in to whisper, "I'll tell ya later. Gotta be certain we keep this behind locked lips, ya know?"

His gaze briefly nudged towards Solomon and Sarajin, picking up on that, stared at his brother as he pulled away.

Ezekiel threw a hand up in defense, "I-It ain't him I'm worried about, it's the kinda company he's keepin'."

The first part was definitely a partial lie, but the second part was true. The only person Solomon kept around that Sarajin knew about well enough was Xiark.

The Vizier seemed obsessive.

Dimentio was...something.

But...Ezekiel couldn't have known about either of them enough to make that judgment call. The person he was referring to was...

"Atrax?" Sarajin murmured with mild confusion.

"He's still a Sage, just cause I'm trustin' one ain't gonna mean I'm gonna start shakin' hands with 'em all."

"But he's been nothing but helpful to us."

Ezekiel grunted because he knew his brother had a point, "E-Even so, I get the willies when I'm around 'em."

"...This is very important to us all, yerself included, brother."

Sarajin nodded and hastily tried to defuse the argument he started, "Alright alright. We'll continue this conversation later."

Solomon had been listening closely with vested interest, his armor stirring with a deep hum...

Finally they arrived at the blacksmith's workplace, where instead of wheeling out just weapons, nowadays a lot of them seemed to be crafted plates and other tools as part of their trade agreement with Pulsa Minoria.

It was a sight that made Sarajin's heart stir with a faint flutter.

But the heaters were burning to make some weapons too, and their wishes would soon be obliged.

The diminutive, grumpy man who runs the place came crawling out covered in metal born ash and hacked up half his lungs worth of smoke.

He then looked over at his gathered group of men and spoke up politely to Ezekiel, "Mornin' there ya ol' hairy boulder. Whatcha needin' from me today?"

Sarajin spoke up in lieu of Solomon's hesitation, "We're needing a new sword."

The man's eyes widened and he rolled up to him with a jolly, cocky smile under his raggy beard, "Ha! So ya came crawlin' back to me? Was yer perfect 'god' forged sword not good enough?"

"It's not for me." Sarajin then pointed out past his shoulder at Solomon.

When the man looked at him he jumped and his chest lunged forward in fright, "ORE ALMIGHTY...!"

Solomon remained unfazed and gestured his hand out demanding of the man, "I've been told that you are capable of producing a sword worthy of my stature."

The blacksmith glared at Ezekiel and kept darting over to the tall armored man multiple times, "W-What in tarnation is goin' on here?"

"Long st-"

"I hear that enough around these parts!" He shouted, "And I've smelled enough darkness from that monster to know another when I see it!"

Sarajin approached the blacksmith and tried to ease his worries, "He's here on diplomatic terms with me. He just wants a sword. Could you please make one for him?"

"Ghhh...!" The blacksmith scoffed. Though a frightened man, he was still someone who was proud of his work and ready to prove it at any given opportunity.

His smirk rose, and he began laughing.

"Fine. A little onyx oughta make a fine blade for a darkness wielder. I'll get everyone else in on it. We ain't too busy at the moment. Come back 'ere in about an hour, and you'll see what kinda swords we're capable of!"

"Hmph, do not disappoint me then." Solomon said, a little intrigued by the man's bluster.

An hour was the perfect amount of time to show Solomon around the rest of Oreore and get him to understand what hard labor looked like.

By the time they made it back to the blacksmiths' cavern the holes were blowing out plenty of smoke and the hammers were heard reverberating against plenty of metal.

Solomon took the lead and barred entry into the cavern by the others, "I will observe this on my own."

He looked over at Sarajin and told him in particular, "This blade is MINE to wield, not yours."

"Fair enough." Sarajin nodded and let him be, but even as the man wandered into the cavern he and Ezekiel could still check what was going on through the window.

Many blacksmiths waved heavy rags of leather to blow the smoke out of the room, revealing a steel table in the center with swords of many shapes and sizes laid out, each adorned with an onyx colored blade.

The lead blacksmith wedged his body at the forefront of Solomon's vision and crossed his arms with a huff of pride, "Take yer pick, king of darkness, the best of the best put their blood and heart into these!"

Solomon became silent and judgmental in his gaze as he started from the far left end and slowly strolled to the other side.

There were a plethora of weapons to observe ranging from broadswords to scimitars. Some were made with a clear intent at mockery, putting a skull on the handle, but all they did was make the blacksmith who made them appear as a fool for he knew such a blade was unwieldy...

He could feel their eyes dreading his critique, some were eager for him to pick their blade out of all the others.

Solomon did carefully look over each one, for a couple he held them in his hand. They weren't imperfect blades...but they didn't feel right in his hand.

Midway through he started to hear a small series of clanging sounds coming from a still occupied ledge.

A lone boy with long, scrappy light gray hair and slacked overalls continued to pound away at a blade with his small hammer.

Solomon felt something, a pull like a gravity upon his soul.

He moved away from the table and stood behind the boy from a far distance. The lead blacksmith approached him to remark, "That boy's just takin' the opportunity to practice. He ain't gonna produce anything worthwhile for a long time."

Solomon advanced closer until his shadow draped over the boy and made him stiffen up. But then the boy kept pounding away for a few more seconds until finally, panting and heaving with sweat, he flipped around and raised his completed product to Solomon while cowering his head.

It was the most standard of blades that you'd find in the hands of most soldiers. The blade was chipped in parts and the hilt was missing part of the grip separating the hand from the blade. Oil had been smeared across the handle in a desperate attempt to hide it, and some of the onyx had to be replaced with pure black steel.

Yet Solomon couldn't stop staring at it. It burned bright in his eyes with a desire to strive for greater heights.

To the shock and utter silence of the other blacksmiths, Solomon reached out and took the blade from the child's hands and held it before his face.

"Hrrrmmm..." After a long pause to growl, Solomon lowered the blade and remarked, "Raise your head, boy."

The boy jumped at the chance obediently.

"Your name."

"S-Smithy...sir!" He murmured out.

"...What do you seek to gain from this work?"

Smithy squeezed his hands into his knees and shouted, "I-I want to make weapons that can talk...sir!"

Solomon took note of the few snickers growing behind his back and narrowed his eyes in a glare.

"Why?" He uttered to the boy.

"B-Because...I feel they deserve to have a voice too. They're...they're more than just tools, they're our friends."

The concept of friendship laid dull on Solomon's ears, but not the boy's spirit. That small heart oozed with ambition and it showed through in every aspect of his flawed craft.

Solomon gestured his hand out from his side and then slid the sword through the belt of his armor. Smithy's eyes widened, the blacksmiths were left in a daze.

Solomon then stared at the boy and told him firmly, "Are you able to hone your craft to the best of your ability here?"

Smithy nodded quickly.

"Not anymore," Solomon decreed, and held his hand towards the boy, "You will come live with me in Obscura. The solitude and solace of darkness shall provide you with all that you need to make your ambitions more than a mere dream."

"N-Now hold on just a bloody second...!" The blacksmith objected.

Solomon turned to him and held him down with the pressure of his gaze alone.

Sarajin then poked his head through the window to help Solomon along, "Think about it, he might still have parents."

"I-I don't..." Smithy murmured out, looking up at the tall man with a soft, pitiable gaze, "They died to Rot Walkers years ago."

Solomon used this knowledge as ammunition against the blacksmith's objections, "Appears to me that he has no obligations to these lands anymore."

"D-Damn it, Smithy, yer like a son to all of us 'ere...!" The blacksmith shouted.

And Smithy in turn responded, "Ya taught me how to blacksmith, but you've never cared about my dream...!"

Smithy then jumped off his seat and stood beside Solomon, clutching his leg, "I want to make weapons talk! And I will! You'll see!"

This could have been another point of conflict if Sarajin didn't run into the cavern to defend Solomon's decision, "T-There's no need to escalate this! If Solomon wants to give this kid space to fulfill his dreams...then let him."

The blacksmith's eyes went wide towards Sarajin, who cracked a minor grin and appealed to the man's heart, "This is to help make a better world."

The blacksmith folded his arms and with a gruff scoff mumbled under his breath, "Mmmmrrr, fine, I'll let him go on one condition. Ya gotta make sure the boy's taken care of proper."

"If I find the boy ain't fed or hydrated, I'm gonna waltz into Obscura and crack EVERY ONE of these blades atop yer skull!"

"Ha ha...!" Solomon bellowed with a hint of delight, unnerving most but just quivering Sarajin's skin, "Indeed...the people of Oreore do have spirit."

Sarajin wiped the sweat off his brow and sighed, "Whew..."

But this was good.

In his own way, Solomon had extended his hand out to help someone else out.

He likely didn't understand what he did. Maybe he would never perform a selfless act like this again.

But he had the capacity to do so, and so Sarajin was going to keep trying to guide him along so he can find the answers he seeks and in turn...His place in the slowly changing world they find themselves in.

Next Time: Strike Out Against the Unknown